Green Leafed Hope
by Ealcynn
Summary: Legolas and Estel. One, scorned and unloved, while the other so over-protected he is stifled. When a terrible ordeal forces them together, can they learn to overcome their fathers and have hope?And can their fathers learn some new lessons too? ON HOLD.
1. Unloved

_Summary: Legolas and Estel. Two sons. One, scorned and unloved, while the other so over-protected he is stifled. When a terrible ordeal forces them together, can they learn to over come their fathers and restore hope? And can their fathers learn some new lessons too? Non slash. This is my first fic so please R&R!_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Bite me. sigh_

_I am only writing this story for my personal enjoyment. I don not own any of the recognisable characters or places in this story, and I am not making any financial profit from it. _

_**Dedication: **This story is written for all of my wonderful friends, my inspiration in this world. Especially to Llyneth and Eleni who checked this out first, Kementari who continues to help through all odds and to Raven for her imaginative help with my title. Thanks guys, you're stars!_

_Just a word of warning – initial chapters will be rather short as I'm still getting into my stride. Hopefully this wont be the case for long…roll on the story._

Chapter One - Unloved 

"It wasn't my fault!"

"You were in charge of the unit. They were your responsibility. That makes everything your fault. You had strict orders which you disobeyed!"

Celussë heard the Elven King slam his palm down into the table and winced. Legolas was having a rough time again. The moment they had returned from the latest foray against the spiders with three wounded Elves, Celussë knew the King would blame his son. In actuality, only the young prince's timely order to retreat had prevented lives from being lost. When Legolas had entered the throne room to make his report, Celussë, had waited outside. The following argument had been going for half an hour. That was fairly average.

"I thought it necessary in the circumstances. There were just too many! I did the best I could. "

"Three of my Elves were injured while you were 'doing your best'. Maybe your 'best' isn't good enough."

"If I hadn't have ordered the retreat at that moment, they would have died!" The Prince retorted angrily.Then he spoke in a voice so soft Celussë could barely hear it.

"What is it that you want from me? Why can I never do anything right?"

There was a momentary silence. Celussë prayed that the King had finally understood the reason for his son's questions. Valar knew he had a good enough reason to ask them. But no.

"How _dare _you take that tone with me! Your failings have led to this. Your constant disregard of orders and your arrogant belief that you know better than everyone else! I am ashamed to call you my son!

Angry footsteps marched across the hall and Celussë leapt back out of the way as the door burst open, and the Elven King stormed out of the room. He marched past the golden-haired warrior without a word and disappeared down the corridor.

Celussë slowly slipped round the door, and into the audience room. The floor was covered with a large green rug that stretched from panelled wall to panelled wall but the room was dominated by an enormous oaken table that stood in its centre. Legolas sat at the table, hunched in a chair, his face in his hands. Ever since the King's beautiful wife Nolwe had been killed by orcs, Thranduil had vented his grief and anger on his son, by criticizing his every move. Celussë knew the whole palace sighed with pity for the prince, but none dared to reproach their lord. As well as carrying his own grief for his mother, the young Elf was forced to bear the burden of his father's antagonism as well. It was amazing how one so admired and respected by his people could be made to feel so…unloved. Celussë often wondered how long it would be before Legolas cracked under the pressure.

The warrior padded across the room to the prince and gently reached out a hand to touch the Elf's shoulder. Celussë felt Legolas tense under his hand, before the prince quickly stood up. He had expected to see tears on the Elf's face, but the stony expression that met his was somehow much worse. Only in the very depths of his crystal blue eyes could be seen the pain.

"Thank you Celussë, but I shall be fine. Should the King request my presence, please inform him that I have gone riding for a few hours."

The warrior's heart wrung with pity for the young Elf, but he merely said, "Certainly, _Hir nin_, I shall send word for your horse to be made ready at once."

"The younger Elf nodded at him before disappearing from the room.

_Oh Thranduil_, Celussë wondered, remembering the bright, happy child he once used to know. _What have you done to your son?_

translations: _Hir nin _My Lord

Love it? Hate it? Suggestions? Press the little button…

(Take pity on me, this is my first fic )

l _namárië ar sérë, híninya_

l _nienna xx_

l

V


	2. Over Protected

**Title:** Green Leafed Hope.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything...blah blah...yes we all know the drill.

Thanks if you reviewed my first chapter! More action coming, I promise!

**Chapter Two - Over-protected**

The young man of about twenty lay dozing contentedly in the warm grass. The afternoon sunlight spilled through the beech leaves dappling the forest floor with green and gold. Estel could feel the sun's heat on his face, making his eyelids heavy. Insects droned in the air; the trees murmured to each other in some secret, forgotten language. Nature was at peace.

He had ridden out from Rivendell in the early morning, just telling the Elf who was working in the stables that he needed some air. He knew there would be serious trouble later when he got back for going off without permission but at that moment in time he couldn't care less. Let 'later' look after itself.

As he relaxed on the grassy bank, Aragorn's thoughts went to his brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, identical even down to mischievous twinkle in their eyes. He grinned as he recalled the look on Glorfindel's face as he realised he had been the victim of another of their 'jokes'. But as much as Glorfindel had raged and shouted (the phrase 'Elves of your age should know better,' appearing frequently in the following admonishment) Aragorn knew they would all find it very quiet in The Last Homely House when the twins left with the Rangers that day. The very thought of the Rangers left a bitter feeling in the young man's stomach.

**Flashback **

Estel was sitting on the edge of his balcony, his legs hanging in the empty air, leaning back against the wall. Clouds scudded across the blue sky. The garden stretched out below him and he watched a pair of squirrels playing high in the branches of a nearby oak tree. Suddenly, he felt a slight touch on his shoulder. Estel jumped, almost falling off the balcony in surprise, and grabbing the nearest thing in reach to stop himself plummeting to his death. This object unfortunately happened to be the leg of the elf who had tapped his shoulder, his brothers' friend Halatirno. The Elf stepped back, laughing.

"Hey!"

The young man let go of the elf's knee, looking embarrased.

"Sorry." he grunted. The Elf waved the apology aside, still laughing.

"Sorry for startling you, my friend. I forgot you have a human's hearing. Cuino has just told me that the Rangers are expected back this evening. I knew you'd be interested so I thought I'd come by and let you know."

'Interested' hardly summed up the intensity of Estel's emotions. A sudden ball of excitement flooded into his chest at the thought of the rangers, his friends. This was what he had been waiting for, for what seemed like so long. He quickly stuttered out his thanks to his elven friend and ran down the hall to find his brothers. This was it! In a few days he would be one of the Rangers for good. He had ridden out with them several times before, but last month had been brought back by his brothers with a poisoned orc arrow embedded in his shoulder. Since that incident, Elrond had returned to his normal over-protective self, and Estel had been confined to the house. But now he knew his _ada _would let him go again. He sped off round the corner, as Halatirno stared after him with a smile.

**End flashback **

Aragorn sighed and rubbed at the healing wound on his shoulder. That had been Elrond's argument, of course, that he wasn't completely well again yet. True, his shoulder did sting from time to time, but he was perfectly capable of looking after himself. But in the end, his _ada_ had stood firm by his decision, so that was that. The Rangers (with Elladan and Elrohir) were due to leave Rivendell again tomorrow and he would not be with them.

Estel had been angry at first, convinced that his father thought him incapable. That was partly the reason why he had ridden off by himself that morning. He also did not want to have to say goodbye to brothers, and to see his only friends riding off without him. The Elves were all very nice but sometimes he longed for the company of his own kind. They would be gone by the time he returned. However, the day's ride had cooled his anger, and his normal, cheerful disposition was beginning to return. The Rangers would not be long away and Estel was determined that he would ride with them next time, no matter what he had to do to win his father's trust first.

Nearby, his horse snorted, recalling him to the present. He reached out a lazy hand to pat the beast's back. "Come on _sadron pen_. Let's go home".

As he swung himself into Mithren's saddle, Aragorn thought of his father's words to him, "I only want to protect you, _ion nin_."

_Does he actually want to protect me, or just the heir of Gondor? _He wondered in a moment of bitterness. However, he pushed down that uncharitable thought and turned the grey stallion towards home.

translations: _ada _dad/daddy

_sadron pen _faithful one

_ion nin _my son

I can't update if you don't review! So review if you want more. In fact, review even if you don't!

_namárië ar sérë, híninya_

_nienna xx_


	3. Missing

Hello all! A new chapter already!!! How speedy was that ;) Thanks for the reviews everyone! I'm really glad you're likin' it!

Thanks for the suggestions **Rae**, my first ever reviewer! I'm trying to improve the chapter length, but it's always hard to find sensible places to end chapters! As for keeping Thranduil evil for ever…ah well, that'd be telling

I'm glad you're enjoying it, **aknightofni. **Aww poor ole Leggie! Glad you liked the elvish touches, I'm a novice at that too!

Glad you're likin it **eep**!Here's your update!

Yes, **sielge**, the start is good but the rest is better :D

Sorry bout the typos** Jopru, **it didn't like me typing … for some reason. Who knows why? Modern technology.

The next chapter is now, **silvertoekee **my friend!! And as for them meeting…you'll have to wait and see…

Yo **fyrheafoc, **me matey. Thought you'd like the dedication!

blushes aww, thanks **LalaithoftheBruinen, **your kind comments were so encouraging! Hope you like the following chapters too. I promise to feed the bunnies lots of lettuce

Yes, you are dead right **SirNotAppearingInThisFilm**, in my opinion the most enjoyable characters to read and write about : )

Oh and by the way, I love Tolkien and all of his works and read them obsessively but I don't claim to be an expert! If I have made any errors, please bear with them!

* * *

**Chapter 3 - Missing**

Evening was gently falling across the dusky valley as Estel rode in through the gates, the dying sun drenching the land with red-golden glow like the blood of a thousand warriors. Estel paid no head to this wonder as his mind was mostly filled with thoughts of the telling off he was about to get. He dismounted and led Mithren to the stables, absentmindedly brushing him down and storing away the saddle and tack, a task he always took upon himself. Rivendell seemed peaceful and strangely empty now that the Rangers had left again. As the young man walked back across the quiet courtyard he unbuckled his sword belt. None were permitted to wear weapons inside the Last Homely House, not even the son's of Elrond. Of course, this sword was not TheSword. Estel had been given a fine blade by his brothers for his 14th birthday, and that was the sword that he was now wearing. The Sword of Elendil stayed safe inside Rivendell, and would remain there, he imagined, for many years to come. Although he was aware of his heritage and his destiny, Estel tried his best to pretend that he wasn't.

Just as he reached out a hand to open the door from the courtyard, he heard a horse ride in through the gates behind him. Puzzled, he turned, and saw a golden-haired Elf jump down from saddle of a Palomino mare. The Elf looked around and noticed him standing in the shadows.

"_Mae Govannen!" _he called.

"_Elen sila lumenn omentielvo." _Aragorn gave the proper reply without thinking, and stepped forward towards the strange Elf. He was clad in green and brown, and looked weary, as if he had been travelling hard. His hair was golden, not dissimilar to Glorfindel's, but this Elf had more pointed features, looking altogether younger and more wary. Suddenly, a glimmer of half-recognition flickered in Aragorn's mind but he quickly dismissed it. He had never seen this Elf before.

Meanwhile, the Elf was looking at Aragorn in surprise, obviously not expecting to see a human in Imladris. The boy must be one of those 'Rangers' that stayed occasionally. However, his mission was urgent and he did not have time to ask questions.

"I wish to speak with Lord Elrond, immediately."

Estel frowned, confused. Something important must have happened to bring this Elf here with such haste. From where did he hail?

"Of course. I shall lead you to him," The man replied. "Are you hurt? Would you like some food first?"

The Elf shook his head vigorously. "No, I am fine. But I must speak to Elrond Peredhil."

"Okay." Aragorn quickly led the stranger's exhausted horse into the stables, handing his care over to a stable hand. He was actually quite surprised at the Elf's name for his father 'Peredhil'. _No-one has called Elrond that for many years_. Beckoning to the elf, the pair of them left the stables and entered the Last Homely House. As they walked along the hall, Estel was about to ask the stranger his name, when he noticed that the Elf seemed consumed with some worry. He twisted his fingers together anxiously, his head bowed. On second thoughts, Estel decided to leave the Elf to his musings, and led him on without a word.

* * *

Elrond sat at his desk with a stack of parchment before him, and a quill in his hand. Re-writing and ordering his herb records was a tedious job, but one he would entrust to no-one else. Many of the documents were centuries old, and had been collected from all over the world. As such, they were invaluable to Elrond and his healers. It was also a good opportunity for him to record all of his knowledge onto parchment so it would never be forgotten. His older sons had a basic knowledge of healing, but had always been more interested in stabbing things than healing them. Estel, however, was showing increasing talent in this field, and was capable of recognising and administering most of the herbs used in day-to-day medicine.

The sun had now set, dyeing the clouds with a deep orange pink that reflected across the valley and seemed to set all the walls of Imladris aflame. Elrond sighed. He understood that Estel was upset with him. He did feel slightly bad about refusing the young man permission to go with the Rangers again. In truth, his arm was not yet completely healed, and Elrond was sure that he was too young to be a Ranger yet anyway. 20 years old! An elf would still be clinging to his mother's skirts at this age, never mind welding a sword! Mortal lives were so swift and fragile. He could not bear to lose another loved one, never mind the destruction the boy's death would cause for all hope of peace for Middle Earth. Yes, he was acting in Estel's interests, even though Estel himself might not see it. And he should definitely not have ridden off without telling anyone. That was going against everything Elrond had been trying to prevent in the first place. As soon as he returned home, Elrond would have to have words with the headstrong young man. It was time Elrond began to involve him in some of Imladris's political dealings. Maybe that would help shake some sense into the lad, and also would be useful later on in his...career.

Elrond turned back to his work.

_The herb Rámaiwë (named for the distinctive shape of the leaves)_ _is widely used to treat this condition, namely, the leaves are made into a poultice and applied to the affected limb. However, it has also been discovered that drinking a solution made from the plant's root is efficacious as a cough cure. The method of making a drinkable solution from the root is similar to that used for the root of the plant Lapattëstál. The healer-_

Suddenly, there was a quick knock at the door and Estel entered the room. Elrond threw down his pen and was about to begin rebuking his youngest son, when he realised a tired, travel worn Elf had entered the room behind him.

* * *

As he entered, Estel saw Elrond's expression become stern, and he quickly stepped aside to allow the strange Elf to enter. Elrond's expression changed immediately, and an unreadable look came into his eyes. His eyes flicked back to his son as if for an explanation. The seriousness of the blonde Elf's tone had left Aragorn with a deep sense of foreboding, but he formally introduced the Elf with as many manners as he could muster.

"My Lord, this guest has just arrived. He begs immediate audience with you."

Elrond rose and the two Elves elegantly bowed to each other. Elrond gestured to a seat, and the stranger fell wearily into it.

"Estel, will you have someone fetch some refreshment for our friend? Then come straight back here again please."

Aragorn nodded and, with a curious glance over his shoulder, left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

The man raced down to the kitchens, his mind buzzing with questions. He had never seen an Elf quite like this before. Different Elves often visited Imladris, most of them being from the sea port at the Grey Havens, or from the Enchanted Wood. However, the Sea-Elves were dark haired and grey eyed, they sung quiet, sad songs of lost ages and dressed in the greeny blue of the waves of the Sundering Sea. Lothorien Elves were mostly blonde, but a paler, silvery blonde, not this rich gold. Well then, this stranger had to be from Mirkwood. Where else was there? Estel could never remember meeting an Elf from the Great Wood before. His father had told him that in resent years, relations with the King of Mirkwood, though once good, had deteriorated. Visits and messengers came less and less until about 18 years ago when they had stopped all together. Now, there was barely any communication at all between the Elven refuges. Apparently, Elrond had not approved of the way The Elven King was handling a family problem. In return, Thranduil hated and distrusted other races, and did not like Elrond "dealing in their affairs". From the tone Elrond had used, Aragorn was pretty sure that those affairs were something to do with himself.

* * *

Less than 2 minutes later, Aragorn was again standing in Elrond's study.

"Sit down, Estel."

Aragorn cleared a pile of books from a chair, and sat on it, wondering why he had been told to return. The golden-headed Elf gave him a wary glance.

"It's all right, _mellon nin._ This is my adopted son, Estel. You can say before him anything you would say before me." The Elf nodded vaguely. Aragorn decided he was either too tired to care, not listening, already informed about him, or a highly skilled actor. He had never yet met an elf that had had no reaction to the news that Elrond had adopted a mortal son. Most elves were shocked speechless. A once in a lifetime event. Unfortunately.

Aragorn leaned his elbows on the desk, earning a glare from Elrond, which needless to say he ignored. "Please, begin _mellon nin." _

The Elf took a sip of water and then spoke. "_Hirath nin, _I am a warrior from the Elven court of _Taur-nu-Fuin_. My name is Celussë. I have been sent by King Thranduil, to ask for your assistance."

Elrond did not reply, but raised one eyebrow questioningly.

"You see, it is _Ernil-o Taur-e-Ndaedelos_ Legolas Thranduilion. He is missing."

TBC...

* * *

translations: _Mae Govannen - _wotcha! (Alright, it means Well Met)

_Elen sila lumenn omentielvo - _A star shines upon the hour of our greeting

_Peredhil - _Half Elven

_Mellon nin - _my friend

_Hirath nin - _my Lords

_Taur-nu-Fuin - _Mirkwood (Forest under Gloom)

_Ernil-o - _Prince of ...

_Taur-e-Ndaedelos - _Mirkwood (Forest of the Great Fear)

I know absolutely nothing about herbs or plants so I made up some names that sounded vaguely herbish, based on an imagined leaf shape.

_Rámaiw_ - Little bird's wing

_Lapattëstál - _Hare's foot

Thanks to all who reviewed, you made my day. Remember; reviews feed my imagination monster : )

namárië ar sérë, híninya

Nienna

l

l

l

v


	4. Searching

**Chapter Four - Searching**

The Elf took a sip of water and then spoke. "_Hirath nin,_ I am a warrior from the Elven court in Mirkwood. My name is Celussë. I have been sent by King Thranduil, to ask for your assistance."

Elrond did not reply, but raised one eyebrow questioningly.

"You see, it is _Ernil-o Taur-e-Ndaedelos_ Legolas Thranduilion. He is missing."

Estel's elbow slipped off the desk, and his head jerked up in surprise. Elrond, however, leaned forward towards the blonde elf and looked at him intently over steepled fingers. "Explain. From the _beginning._"

"Of course, Lord Elrond. Prince Legolas went out riding alone, early in the evening. He was wearing his weapons, as all do who live in _Taur-nu-Fuin_, but took no provisions. It seemed that he did not plan to stay out more than a few hours."

The exhausted elf spoke in the flat tone of one reciting a speech that had been written by someone he didn't much like.

"When he had not returned by the day after next, we sent out search parties into the local area. None found any trace of the Prince or his horse. The search was then continued by mounted Elves, who went further into the forest. It was they who found some Elven arrow heads, blackened by fire, and scattered on the ground. However, nothing else was found for a few days."

Elrond raised a hand questioningly and Celussë paused. "Celussë, how long ago did the Prince go missing?"

"Um...about...19 days ago my Lord."

"_19 days?!?_" Aragorn said loudly. "That's nearly 3 weeks! _Anything_ could have happened to him in that time."

"Celussë," Elrond asked, "Why are you only searching for help now?"

The Mirkwood Elf began speaking again in the flat monotone. "It took many days for us to properly search the forest near the palace, and then many more for us to begin to look further afield."

Elrond raised his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes, looking very weary. "Look _mellon nin_, your loyalty to your lord is admirable. But to you not think we will be able to search more effectively for the Prince if you were to tell us the truth?"

Celussë looked him in the eyes. "You ask me to speak from my heart?"

"_Ye, mellon nin, aquista."_

"Then I shall. For I give more loyalty and love to Legolas than I do to his father. You must understand that the death of Queen Nolwe has had a very bad effect on both the King and his son. They will probably never get over their grief."

Elrond gave a barely audible sigh.

"Very well then," the Elf continued, "The day before Legolas disappeared, Thranduil had got news of a small Spider colony quite near to the palace. He ordered that the creatures be eliminated before they had a chance to spread. Legolas was leading the unit, and the King had commanded that no-one was to return until all the spiders were slain. I was one of the warriors in the foray, expecting to meet about 30 smallish spiders. We were met by several hundred along with a contingent of goblins. The Prince ordered a lightning attack and retreat. We killed as many of the creatures as we could before escaping back into the forest. Legolas had organised his troops well and had made, we all agreed, a sensible decision to retreat while we were ahead. Because of this, we left the majority of the beasts dead or dying, with minimal loses ourselves. As it was, 3 Elves were wounded, two of whom later died.

'However, Thranduil did not seem to understand this, and he and his son had a bit of an argument."

Elrond raised an eyebrow.

"All right, they had a blazing row, not that that in itself was uncommon. After it was over, Legolas told me he was going out for a while, and would be back later. I had his horse prepared and he rode off. No-one has seen him since. Please, My Lords, I beg for aid to help find the Prince. Without him, hope for Mirkwood will be lost forever.

"What makes you believe that he has even come to harm?" asked the young man. "From what I hear maybe the Prince has had enough and has run away?"

The Elf answered quickly "No. He didn't. He has been captured, and maybe he is already dead."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because we found one of his knives and the remains of his horse thrown into a ditch four days ago. The creatures flesh had been eaten."

* * *

_Hirath nin -_ My Lords 

_Ernil-o Taur-e-Ndaedelos_ - The Prince of Mirkwood

_Taur-nu-Fuin -_ Mirwood

_Ye, mellon nin, aquista - _Yes my friend, please.

* * *

yes, a short chapter i know! I'm working on the chapter lengths, I really am! 

Thanks **Ravenessence** and **Alex**! Yes, I agree, education sucks. Who needs education when you have Tolkien?? As for an argument between Legolas and Aragon…well, you'll have to wait and see… I'm glad the dedication pleases!

Thanks for your kind words **Lyn**! It was really encouraging for me as a new writer to get such a useful and well thought out review. If you have any suggestions, I'd be really pleased to hear them. Thanks again!

Bob my Imagination and Randomness Monster liked your review **aknightofni**! Yes, I was hoping the chapter would throw up some surprises! I'm glad u liked the humour too, it's not my strong point.

Glad your likin' it, **Legolas-gurl88! **Yes, computers are evil. grrr.

Well **SirNotAppearingInThisFilm, **_namárië ar sérë, híninya_, means "farewell and peace, my children" I think. I'm still learning as far as the elvish goes! And I called Mirkwood by two names just because I thought both the words were cool. I hope Ed like the next chapter!

Thanks to everyone else who reviewed, I appreciate it and it really made my day! hands round cookies to reviewers

namárië ar sérë, híninya,

see you in the next chapter,

nienna xx


	5. Family

**Chapter 5 - Family**

Preparations for the search had begun immediately. Elrond's first move had been to send Glorfindel off to catch up with the Rangers and bring those willing to help back to Rivendell. Estel had asked to go with him but, of course, Elrond had refused. Instead, Estel had been put in charge of looking after their new guest. The Mirkwood Elf was exhausted from his journey and barely said a word as Aragorn lead him too his new chambers.

"Would you like some more food or drink? I can have the servants bring up some hot water if you would like."

"That is kind, _hannon le,_ but I am too weary." Celussë murmured as he followed Aragorn into one of Rivendell's spacious guest rooms. Aragorn lit the lamp and it illuminated a pleasant room with a bed, table and balcony, under wooden beams delicately carved with ivy leaves. He walked over and placed it on the table, his mind filled with bitter thoughts of his father's fussing yet again. He turned back to see the Elf sink wearily into a chair and then raise his head and look at the human intensely. Again, Aragorn felt that sudden and inexplicable sense of recognition. The eyes though; they were not quite right. But the feeling faded before he could pin it down.

"So you are Estel." The Elf said softly. "Legolas used to speak of you a great deal. How are your brothers? And your beautiful sister, the Lady Arwen?"

"My brothers are very well, thank you." said Aragorn absently. "I have never met my sister for she has been staying for many years with her kin in the Golden Wood, but I believe she is well."

"Then you have missed a great deal, _mellon nin!_ For they say in her face lies the likeness of fair Luthien Tuniviel who was lost long ages ago."

"So I have heard!" replied the man, smiling. "My father and brothers miss her greatly. I hope I shall get to meet her soon. But for now, I shall go and leave you to your rest."

"_Hannon Le." _Murmered the elf again, Aragorn bowed and quietly left the room.

As he walked down the hall, Aragorn thought about his Elven family, and the human family he had never known. How different would his life have been if his real mother and father had survived? Maybe better? Maybe worse. Estel gave himself a mental shaking. No, Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir and his mysterious sister were all he would ever want. They were his family now and if given the choice, he would never choose another.

He knew how upset the twins would be when they found out about Prince Legolas. Estel knew they used to be best friends many years back. As his thoughts drifted over the conversation he had just had, he suddenly remembered what the blonde Elf had said.

"_Legolas used to speak of you a great deal."_

Legolas knew him? How was that possible, when he had never ever seen the elf before (and maybe never would if Celussë's fears proved grounded). Surely there was a mistake. Aragorn turned and dashed back to the guest room, knocked and entered without waiting for an answer.

"Celussë, how is it that - " he stopped. The Mirkwood Elf was lying fast asleep, curled up on the blankets. The man quietly backed out of the room, closed the door behind him and walked thoughtfully down the stairs.

The Rangers rode into the courtyard late the next morning with Glorfindel at their head. Elronds twin sons leapt from their steeds and strode quickly into the house.

What's happened?" Elladan demanded the moment he saw Elrond. The Elf Lord paused for a moment.

"What has Glorfindel told you?" Elrond asked as he slowly crossed the hall toward his sons.

"Hardly anything," began Elladan, "only-"

"-that Legolas is missing." ended Elrohir.

"Yes." said Elrond quietly as Glorfindel walked up to stand with the group. "Missing and…presumed dead. I am sorry."

The twin's expressions hardened into identical masks of shock and anger and fear.

"I think," said Elrohir, "that you had better tell us exactly what has happened."

Elrond had called an immediate meeting in his study, and had sent Estel off to wake the Mirkwood Elf, thinking it would be better for the twins to hear the story from his mouth than a retelling of it. Half an hour later, five elves and one human sat in the bright study; Elrond in his usual chair behind the desk, his hands rested on the carved arms. Elladan and Elrohir sat side by side, seeming to draw strength from each other but Glorfindel stood alone by the window with his arms folded, looking out over the bright, beautiful, sunlit garden as he listened to dark tidings. Celussë sat opposite the twins, the sunlight glinting off his golden hair speaking out to the room in a clear voice, despite the exhaustion still lingering in his eyes. Estel was sat on the floor leaning against the wall, his long legs stretched out in front of him. After leading the Elf to the room, he had been ignored, so he had sat in the corner with the hope of being over-looked and being able to listen in on the discussion.

The blonde Elf finished his story and silence fell across the room. The sounds of the world drifted in through the open windows; birdsong and treevoice, distant laughter, and the deep, distant roar of the Bruinen echoing through the valley. At last, Elladan broke the silence.

"Elrohir and I will ride out with the Rangers to Mirkwood on the morrow."

"Split into groups-" supplied Elrohir.

"-probably fours-"

"-and each take an area to search."

"That way we can cover the most ground-"

"-in the shortest amount of time." they ended together.

Glorfindel and Elrond nodded in agreement, but the Mirkwood Elf stared at the twins in shock. Estel grinned to himself. It always scared people when his brothers finished each other's sentences or spoke at the same time. They had tried to explain it to him once, their bond that was so strong they could tell what the other was thinking and speak to each other in their minds. Even though he had grown up with it, he could understand why people still found it a little spooky.

Elrond nodded. "I shall organise provisions immediately. How many Rangers are there?"

"33 including ourselves" answered Elladan.

"And how long will you be gone for?"

There was a silence.

"Until he is found." Said Elrohir softly. Celussë bowed his head.

"Elrond," said Glorfindel stepping forwards. "I will also go and help. The Prince must be found"

Elrond nodded. "Naturally." Then to the Mirkwood Elf he said; "I assume you will also be joining them?"

"Of course."

"Then it is decided." Said the Elven Lord. "Let us waste no more time with talk. Tomorrow you must be gone."

Suddenly Aragorn stood up. Everyone looked at him in surprise, having forgotten he was there.

"Father, I ask also to be allowed to go on this search and give my aid, such as it is."

Elrond looked at him blankly. "Of course not. Don't be foolish." He turned back to the map he was studying.

Estel went red with embarrassment, and sat back down heavily.

"Why not?" said Elladan suddenly.

"What?" answered Elrond in confusion, looking up again.

"Why can't Estel come?"

"Because it's far too dangerous, that's why."

"He'd be with us and Glorfindel," returned Elrohir, siding with his brother. "We'd look after him."

"I said **no**, Elrohir! I can't stop you and Elladan running back and forth across Middle Earth after orcs and trolls and Valar knows what else, not seeming to mind whether you are stabbing or getting stabbed and impaling every creature unfortunate enough to cross your path, but I can stop him, and I will!"

There was a faint smile on Celussë's lips.

Suddenly Glorfindel spoke up, cutting off the irate Elven Lord's tirade. "I agree with the twins, Elrond. Estel's not a child anymore. It's time he had to face some responsibility, or it will be too late for him to learn anything."

Elrond glared at his friend.

Then, surprising all, Celussë joined in. "He would make up the numbers. Besides, he has the stance of a swordsman and the look of a warrior about him. I think he is capable."

Aragorn stared around at them all in surprise. He had never thought he would get such unexpected aid from Glorfindel and a stranger!

Elrond threw his hands in the air. "Fine! As you all seem set against me, what can I do?" He pointed an accusing finger at his elder sons and his counsellor. "But may the Valar protect you if he returns to my door step with a single scratch on him.

The twins gulped and Glorfindel smiled.

"Now out, all of you! Go find something useful to do. There is plenty of work still to be done before tomorrow."


	6. Remember

_Hey kids. Firstly: Wow, 53 reviews!!! You are amazing, thank youfor all your support, you are amazing amazing people!_

_Secondly: I apologise for the massive delay in the posting of this chapter. I've just started college and had huge amounts of work to do, but the wonderful feedback I had from you guys pursuaded me to get my act together andI managed to clear some time to get thischapter up. Hope y'all enjoy it :)_

_Flashbacks and fluffin this chapter. Shiny T__hanks again for staying with me. _

_nenny xx_

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Remember**

The sun rose into a pale lavender sky, sending fingertips of gold to brush across the hills and the treetops. Aragorn looked back as slow light flowed into the hidden valley and glimmered onto the distant shape of Imladris. Elrond stood in the gateway; he raised one hand in farewell just as the Last Star twinkled and died in the sky above him. Then with a sigh, Aragorn turned his horse's head and followed the other Rangers as they rode out into the dawn.

The day passed uneventfully as the riders made their way along the Great East Road, and soon began their ascent towards the mountain path. Elladan and Elrohir rode back and forth along the column conferring with different Rangers. Estel had somehow ended up at the back of the group riding alongside Celussë. The Mirkwood elf had not said a word since they had left Rivendell; he rode on with his eyes fixed firmly on the ground. The silence was beginning to get to him, so Aragorn finally picked up the courage to ask the question that he had wanted to ask for a long while.

"Celussë?"

"_Ye, mellon nin_?"

"Err, days ago you said something about Legolas talking of me. What did you mean?"

"That time that he came to visit, when you were a child. He used to talk about you a great deal. Do you not remember? I don't think he had ever met a human child before. "

Elladan and Elrohir rode up to the pair.

Elladan, who had caught the end of the conversation, grinned. "He was very taken with you as I recall."

Elrohir laughed.

Aragorn frowned. "I don't remember," he said.

"We do," said the twins at the same time and grinned again.

**Flashback **

The Mirkwood delegation rode into Imladris, with Prince Legolas riding at its head. Elrond and his sons stood on the stairs to greet their distinguished visitors. Legolas swung down from his horse and walked up to the stairs. Always formal and serious, the young prince bowed low to the Lord of Imladris.

"Nai tiruvantel ar varyuvantel i Valar tielyanna nu elen hir nin."

"Welcome to Imladris, Prince Legolas." said Elrond, straight faced and he bowed in response.

Legolas then turned to Elladan and Elrohir. "Greetings to you also, sons of El-"

"Oh stow it Legolas, you silly orc!"

The other Mirkwood Elves smiled as their serious Prince was knocked backwards by the combined weight of Elrond's sons as the three fell into a many-armed hug.

"I do wish you wouldn't do that," said Legolas mock-grumpily, when he had disentangled himself.

"Why?" asked Elrohir. "Does it mess up your hair?"

Legolas punched him lightly on the arm. "No, it just gave me a surprise that's all."

Elladan and Elrohir's faces broke into identical smiles.

"What?" said Legolas suspiciously.

"Nothing. But we have another small surprise. And I do _hope _you'll like it_."_

The twins led a decidedly doubtful Prince into the house.

Elrond had watched contentedly as Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir smiled and laughed and joked. He was glad to see life return to the young Elves during these visits, a chance for them to put aside their griefs and responsibilities, at least for a little while. He was just slightly worried as to what the prince might think of the twin's surprise.

The twins excitedly led the Prince into the house.

"Now," instructed Elladan "close your eyes."

"Why?" asked Legolas.

"We just have something to show you. It's a family thing." said Elrohir.

Legolas half closed his eyes, peeking out under his lids.

"I said 'closed' Greenleaf!"

Legolas smiled and closed his eyes fully.

Elrohir grabbed hold of Legolas's wrist and lead him through a doorway. Legolas could sense Elladan moving away from them further into the room, and he heard a rustle of blankets.

"What...?"

Elrohir tapped his shoulder. "Legolas Thranduilion, meet Estel, son of Lord Elrond and our adopted baby brother."

Legolas opened his eyes.

And stared.

He started to speak but trailed off, his jaw left hanging. He stared in wide-eyed amazement at the tiny human baby Elladan was carrying in his arms.

"What?" he managed weakly. He was dimly aware than Elladan and Elrohir were laughing at him.

"He sleeps with his eyes closed." Legolas said lamely.

"Yes Legolas. That's how human's sleep."

"But how can he see?"

"Men don't see when they are asleep. They can't"

The baby wriggled and, still asleep, pulled a tiny pink thumb into his mouth. .

"Here," said Elladan. "You must hold him."

Legolas backed away with his arms firmly by his sides

"No Elladan, I'm terrible with children, please, I'd drop him or-"

"Oh stop making such a fuss," said Elrohir and pushed the Prince into a chair.

"Please, I-"

Ignoring the Elf's futile protests, Elladan deposited the baby in the Legolas's arms.

Legolas froze, staring down at the tiny bundle in his arms, surprisingly heavy for its size and fragility. Elladan and Elrohir pulled up chairs and sat watching their brother and friend, smiling identical smiles.

Hardly daring to breathe, Legolas murmured, "What did you say his name was?"

"Estel."

_Hope. _A faint idea began to form in Legolas's mind but he said nothing.

The twins, obviously enjoying their friends discomfort, moved to the table; Elrohir collecting a book from the bookcase, Elladan pulling out some parchment and a pen. The room was quiet for a few minutes, with just the sound of Elladan's pen scratching to disturb the stillness.

Legolas looked down at the baby he still held. The child, unused to being held by a stranger, stirred in his sleep, and pressed his nose into Legolas's sleeve.

"Elladan, he's sniffing me out."

"He's a baby Legolas, not a dog," said Elrohir, turning a page without looking up.

Elladan laughed.

At that moment, the baby, Estel, son of Lord Elrond of Imladris opened his eyes and looked at Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Mirkwood. Big, sleepy, grey orbs blinked up into Legolas's blue crystal ones, and the Prince suddenly felt as if a wave of some powerful force flowed between them, the hands of destiny tying their fates together.

Then the baby was sick on him.

**End Flashback **

The Rangers laughed warmly at Elrohir's story. Aragorn felt embarrassed but couldn't help smiling all the same.

"He visited again about two years later, and Estel here followed him around like a little shadow in absolute awe." said Elrohir with a grin. "He was intensely irritated with it at the start but by the end of his stay he became rather attached to you I think. He rode away making us promise faithfully to look after you."

There was a pause. Elladan said quietly "We have not seen him since". The cheerful mood evaporated as everyone remembered the desperate nature of their quest, and continued grimly onward.

The rest of the journey was made more or less in silence. The Rangers were well used to searching and tracking so few instructions needed to be passed. Aragorn was secretly relieved to hear when the group was divided into fours that he would be searching alongside his brothers and Glorfindel. It appeared that the three of them had promised Elrond not to let his youngest out of their sight. The weather held out as they crossed the mountain path and after three more days of wary journey, the group began to descend into the lower lands, and by the evening of the fourth day were preparing camp under the eaves of the Greatwood.

The camp that evening was subdued. Though this part of the wood was still fair and green, all knew of the losing battle Thranduil's folk fought against the evil of the Necromancer in their ancestral home. Even the least receptive humans in the party were aware of the fear flooding from the trees.

Aragorn sat cross-legged leaning against an enormous oak, and polishing his sword blade with an oily rag. Celussë sat a little way off, his long arms wrapped around his knees, staring blankly at the hard earth. Feeling the human's gaze on him, he flicked his eyes up and their gazes locked. The young man was suddenly struck by the deep hopelessness in the Elf's eyes and realised with a sudden stab of guilt, that so far he had only looked on Mirkwood's misfortune as a way for him to impress his family. Seeing one of the prince's friend in such distress brought painfully home to him how desperate it was that their search should succeed.

Suddenly his head felt strangely light as if he was about to faint. He quickly held his palms against his eyes to steady himself and a blinding headache burst behind his eyes. Unable to move for the pain and the nausea, he sat still, clutching his head, when all at once, the feeling past away as swiftly as it had come. He looked around with astonishment, his head completely clear, but there was nothing to indicate where the pain had come from. But now, he realised, there was a sudden certainty, where before there had been just fear and guilt and doubt.

Without knowing why, he quickly walked over to the blonde elf.

"Do not give up hope," he said.

Celussë's head jerked up again, and he looked at the young man standing before him. "What?"

"Do not give up hope." Estel repeated. "The Prince is alive, and we shall find him. I promise." He did not know why he was so suddenly certain, but he knew he wasn't just trying to give false comfort. This was something he knew. It felt as if he had just remembered something he had never known. The oddness of it didn't surprise him for some reason.

The Elf looked at him with tired eyes and smiled. "Youthful enthusiasm. But do not make promises you have no hope of keeping. It is depressing when they fail."

"No," Estel said, insistently. "I know now. We will find the Prince. I have seen it."

The Elf stared at him oddly but said nothing.

* * *

_translations:_

mellon nin_ my friend_

nai tiruvantel ar varyuvantel i Valar tielyanna nu elen hir nin_ may the Valar protect you on your path under the stars_

hir nin_ my lord_

_PLEASE tell me what you think, a very happy writter is just a click of a button away _

_Thanks for all the wonderful reviews I'verecieved so far, you guys mean the world to me. _

_namárië ar sérë, híninya_

_Nienna xxx_


	7. Broken

_I realised that the story so far had been entirely Aragorn at the moment, so here's a bit of Legolas angst to tide you over for a bit. The next chapter is really nearly finished and its three pages, my longest yet. Enjoy!_

_disclaimer: (applies for all chapters of Green Leafed Hope) I do not own any part of Tolkien's universe or any of his characters. I'm merely borrowing them for a while I am not making any money from this story._

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Broken**

Overhead, the entwining branches caught the silver stars in nets of leaves. From where he lay on the crushed grass, he could still catch a glimmer of the gems of Gilthoniel out of his good eye. The velvet blackness was sprinkled with the Starkindler's jewels like the cloak of a queen draped across the heavens, Ithil, the new moon, a diamond orb in it's centre.

The blood on his cheek was slippery against the cold grass.

Strange, that the stars should still dare shine on this place of horror. Through the waves of pain, the young elf could still feel the echo of the Starsong calming his soul, while his life's blood dripped onto the grass. Dully he wondered how much blood he had left to lose. Some of his earlier wounds had closed, but everyday there were new gashes on top of old, and he knew these would not heal. He was dying. The cool darkness of death would mean peace, an end to pain. His spirit was already broken long before the orc's torture. He just hadn't known it then.

In the darkness to his right, an orc lookout hawked and spat onto the ground; a charred, dead leaf, stirred up by a last breath of wind drifted to the ground and lay still. The Elf tried in vain to shift his weight off from his broken ribs and arm, but just ended up jabbing the pain further down his side. He lay still.

There was no fear. He had never feared death. All things must come to an end sometime, yes, even Elves. But this was different. Now, he welcomed death, waited for his last breath. No-one would come. Why should they? He had never been enough; his people deserved better. His _ada _hadn't even…

But there was pain there too. A deeper pain that could not be ignored. He tried, just as he had tried for so many years, but the guilt rose in his chest and he felt as if it would smother him. So many years. No-one to blame but himself.

The coldness was creeping into the depths of his bones. He had never been cold before.

The trees sang a lament for their fallen prince in their own secret tongues, and it wove with the voice of the stars to create part of that timeless rhythm that flowed through all life. Was this what the Song of the Valar was like? Once it would have strengthened him, reminded him what was at stake, to keep fighting, no matter what. But now? Hope was dead. Darkness was falling on the world as inexorably as black night, and death would come to all before long.

It hurt to breathe.

No-one would come. They would fight and fail. He would die alone, like all others, in timeless history before him. Like his Naneth, dying aloneHe wondered if the stars shone for her that night.

* * *

_I'm aware this chapter's a bit bitty, but the intention was to make it sound a bit less smooth. Hope it worked, it's a new technique for me. I'm trying to stick to canon as much as possible so if I make any glaringly obvious mistakes, please let me know _

_translations: _ada _father_

naneth _mother_

_Gilthoniel __Another name for the Valier Queen Elbereth _

_Isil __The moon_

_Thanks for the reviews, **LalaithoftheBruinen, sielge, Gissela** and **Reion.** I'm really glad you're enjoying it! _

_To **HarryEstel, ****Alatariel Narmolanya, lolly pop3** and **grumpy**; yeah, the flashback was fun to write as well, I'm glad it turned out ok. _

_Thanks for the suggestions **Koriaena **and **orlandochick05.** Nice idea about Celusse, I was kinda hinting at that near the beginning, but turns out hes just a regular guy ;) And here's a chapter about Legolas for you orlandochick05 _

_Some more twins coming up in the next chapter **apsenniel** and **kel.** Hope you like this one in the meantime! _

_Thanks for the kind words **Kitkat.** Yeah, this really is my first ever fic, tho I've been thinking of writing a few for ages. Glad I'm not doing too badly so far _

_Thanks **Snaitf **and **Dagg-Dag**! It's really brilliant getting such wonderful reviews, thanks a lot for them, and I'm glad you're all enjoying it! Here's your update :) _

_…and thanks to everyone else who reviewed! I'm sorry I can't reply to you all individually, but time is ticking on. Suffice to say that I'm really grateful for all the wonderful reviews I've had for this story. It's really encouraged me to stick with the writing, I probably would have given up a long time ago if it wasn't for you all. _

_So hannon le, mellon nin , keep reading, keep reviewing and if I don't see you before, have a great Christmas _

_namárië ar sérë, híninya _

_nienna xx _


	8. Silence

**Chapter 8- Silence**

_Firstly, I must apologise for the massive time gap since my last update. My typical good intentions have been foiled by work, deaths, exams, thefts and other jolly things, and all since new year…but hey, we all know about the good intentions of writers. I hope the time delay wont have lost me your kind thoughts, I can't believe the feedback I received for this story. You are all so encouraging, and, at the risk of sounding soppy, I would never have gone back to the story if it wasn't for you guys. Thanks for everything,_

_Nenny xx _

Disclaimer: _I am only writing this story for my personal enjoyment. I don not own any of the recognisable characters or places in this story, and I am not making any financial profit from it. _

_Nienna over and out. _

* * *

**Chapter 8- Silence**

Estel rode through the woods, his brothers either side of him. Slants of grey light were glimmering through the leaves. The man strained his sensitive ears to the sounds of the forest, every nerve on edge as he listened for an out of place sound. Nothing. This part of the great forest was young and green and echoed with birdcall and rustles of tiny mammals. And there were the sounds that made up the texture and life of the forest, sounds only wood elves could clearly hear; the creak and stretch of growing bark and the soft whisper of a million leaves opening to the sun.

The three elves were also wary and rode with their weapons to hand, watching the forest carefully. Aragorn wasn't completely sure what they were looking for. Thranduil's folk had searched this area thoroughly already and he realised he never expected them to find anything.

And there was nothing. Hours went by and above the forest Anar slowly climbed across the sky. The four of them moved deeper into the wood. The man imagined the other Rangers a way off to his right and left, the line slowly moving forwards through the wood. The Rangers had agreed on two days searching here, then return to the outskirts of the forest and move further round the forest. Celussë had taught the Rangers a call used by the Mirkwood patrol, one that was pitched to carry through the dense woodland. That was the signal for danger, or if something was found. So far though, all was silent.

The wood around them began to grow darker, the trees older and closer. Estel shivered and, realising he had fallen behind a bit spurred Mithren closer to his brothers horses.

"Now we must be on our guard," Glorfindel was saying quietly. Although Estel knew the sun was still high in the sky above them, darkness closed in; evil spreading like a poison from the festering sore of Dol-Guldor, slowly leeching the life from the once beautiful forest. As they moved deeper into the wood, they felt the layers of malignancy wash over them like ripples in disturbed water. All four shivered and Elladan turned pale. The horses skittered anxiously.

"Come on," said Elrohir through gritted teeth and the four dismounted. From now on, the search would be on foot. There was too much danger of missing things from horse back. The four moved off through the forest leading their horses behind them.

Estel looked around him nervously, both longing and dreading for a sign of the Prince. He yearned for an end to this nervous apprehension but dreaded what they might discover at the end of their journey. Without thinking, the young human trod on a twig which cracked loudly in the tense air. Glorfindel winced and Elladan froze.

"Sorry!" whispered Aragorn before he realised they were not looking at him, but something before them. He crept forward and saw the swathe of destruction crossing their path, and disappearing off through the trees to their left and right. Slashed branches hung from the trees and the path was trampled into a muddy quagmire of discarded rubbish.

"Orcs!" said Elladan rather unnecessarily.

Aragorn knelt and his fingers brushed the deep scars cut into the earth by the orcs iron shoes. "This path has been used a lot. We must be near a camp or something."

Glorfindel nodded. "What now?"

Elladan glanced up and then looked at Elrohir. They stood in silence for a couple of seconds before both of their eyes flicked down to look at Estel.

"What?" he asked uneasily, standing up.

"If we're near an orc camp, we'll go and look for…prisoners. "

"Use the trees to get closer?" guessed Glorfindel.

"Yes. We're not Woodelves, but it should still be alright. The trees are quite close. Its just…I'm not sure if Estel could do it."

All three turned to look at him. "It's okay." He said quickly. "I'll be fine."

Elrohir looked unconvinced. "Are you sure? I just don't want to have to take you back home to Ada in a box because you fell out of a tree."

Estel felt annoyed and embarrassed. "Elrohir! We don't have time for this. At the moment Legolas is the highest priority. Stop fussing!"

"Okay, okay!"

Glorfindel leaned over to tie the horses' reigns to a tree branch.

"Stop!" said Aragorn suddenly "If danger comes they wont be able to escape. Leave them free, we'll find them."

The elf looked at him, surprised. "Good point."

"Right," said Elladan, "One pair on either side of the road. That way we're less likely to miss something. Estel, come with me. Lets go." And with that, he leapt up, and catching a branch, lightly swung himself into the nearest tree.

The path through the trees was far from easy for the human. Ahead of him, he could see Elladan lightly stepping from branch to branch with barely the slightest movement of leaves. The man followed, trying to step where his brother did and clinging onto the branches around him. "Tree-walking" as his brothers called it was definitely harder that it looked, but Aragorn gradually began to get the knack of placing his feet along the length of the branch instead of across it, of spreading his weight and of how to move quietly through the thousand hanging leaves. Growing up with elves had certainly given him the advantage over other humans. He glanced to his left, but Elrohir and Glorfindel had long since vanished into the arboreal darkness.

The ground beneath the trees was often littered with debris and the wanton destruction of orcs when faced with helpless lives. In several places they came across trees needlessly torn and hacked by blunt orc axes. Every so often, Elladan would halt, and drop down to the forest floor. But however hard the pair searched, there was no sign of an elf amongst the orc prints, and they carried on through the trees into the gloom.

* * *

A raven crouched in the branches of an ancient yew. Sharp, yellow eyes searched through the gloom for carrion from the orc road and they spotted their target. With a stretch of wings, the bird lifted weightlessly from the branch and flapped down onto the dark ground. The raven poked at the blackened object with its beak, and, pushing its head underneath, pecked at the noisome leather. The creature carked in anger as its scratching claws encountered an inedible metal buckle, and, giving the leather a final stab with its beak, the raven flew off in search of easier pickings. 

The orc road was empty and silent again, in the gathering dark. Suddenly, a golden-haired elf dropped silently onto the path, not five paces from where the raven had been 20 heartbeats before. He crouched, frozen, every sense tuned for danger, but with the raven's flight, the area around was empty of life. Not natural for a forest. The elf flicked his eyes up to his companion above, and moved noiselessly through the shadows towards the discarded object on the roadway.

Elrohir crouched on the tree branch, and watched Glorfindel stoop and pick up the leather belt. The Elf Lord looked at it for a long time, and Elrohir's heart sank within him. Oh Valar. The belt must be Legolas's. He had been here. Elrohir, though normally the far more emotionally stable of the twins, felt himself feel faint with fear for his friend, and he gripped the branches tight. Legolas must have- Suddenly, the back of his neck prickled and, on instinct, he spun round just in time to see an enormous spider poised to leap on his back. The creature rolled back with a hissing squeal and dropped dead to the ground. Elrohir let out an unsteady breath, and looked at the knife he wasn't even aware of drawing. It dripped grey slime from the creature's belly. Elrohir jumped to the ground, moving quickly away from the trees.

"Spiders!"

Glorfindel spun round, drawing his sword in the process, just as ten Mirkwood spiders dropped on them from the trees above.

The fight was vicious, but quickly over. Glorfindel dispatched the last spider with a quick swing of his sword, kicking the bloated body away into the shadows. He turned to find his young companion sitting on the ground, hunched forwards over his knees. With fear, he moved quickly to him, and kneeling, grasped his shoulder. _"_Elrohir! _Uume the ni mae_?_"_

Elrohir lifted his head. _"Ye, mellon nin, maem…_ I was bitten, my arm…"

"Valar!" Glorfindel breathed as he steadied Elrohir, carefully rolling up his left sleeve. The bite was deep, a dark red purple, and already the white skin around was tinged with the black venom. Glorfindel swore.

"Now, now." chided Elrohir, grinning. "There's no need for that."

Glorfindel looked at him incredulously. "_Mellon nin_, have you gone mad?"

Elrohir shrugged and grinned again. "Maybe. Perhaps the antidote in my bag is just a hallucination".

"Antidote?" Glorfindel swiftly emptied the bag onto the floor, picking out a small green bottle labeled with Aragorn's rather untidy scrawl. "Where-"

"Estel. Celussë showed him how to make it back at Rivendell." Elrohir quickly sipped from the bottle, before handing it back.

"That young man will be an excellent leader." replied Glorfindel quietly, as he tipped several drops onto the wound. It bubbled unpleasantly. Elrohir paled slightly, but said nothing.

"You should warn Elladan that there are spiders lurking about." Glorfindel said, carefully wrapping a bandage around the new dressing on Elrohir's arm. A familiar tangy smell rose from the linen. It had been soaked in athelas water. Good. Glorfindel fixed the end of the bandage with three thorns in the traditional elven manner, before rolling Elrohir's sleeve back down.

"Do you want me to strap it up?" he asked. Elrohir shook his head, stretching his arm.

"No, it's alright. I can use it well." He looked up, impressed. "You are a good healer."

"Your father is a good teacher. Pack your bag, I'll hide the corpses."

Glorfindel stood as if to walk away, but turned back to Elrohir at the last moment. His eyes were tired.

"Elrohir. You had better tell you brother about this too." He held out the blackened leather object. It was a broken knife belt, its mithril buckle formed as the beech leaf of the Mirkwood royal family.

* * *

Darkness was falling and Estel reached out for a branch, realising he could no longer see his hand in front of his face. The path through the ancient trees was becoming slower and more treacherous with every passing minute, as night filled the forest. Elladan watched his brother warily. He had not told the young man about Legolas's belt that the others had found, or about Elrohir's injury, only passing on a terse instruction to watch out for spiders. The boy had enough problems already, Elladan could see the constant strain of tree-walking was badly tiring him, and, although he knew Estel would never admit it, he could see also see that he was in pain from his half-healed shoulder wound. He was not sure if it was the proximity to evil or merely the onset of night, but there was a deep chill in the air too. Twenty years of living with the boy told him the human would have to rest soon, but Elladan couldn't bear the thought of being so close to the orc camp, and turning back. Not now. Not after the belt. Elladan was frightened.

After they had been moving for about an hour and Estel's healing shoulder was aching painfully, Elladan suddenly stopped and held up a hand. Aragorn froze, hardly daring to breathe, every sense tingling for danger. Elladan looked up, as if listening.

"Elrohir has seen a clearing through the trees. An orc camp." He whispered.

"Deserted?" said Aragorn half hopefully.

Elladan shook his head. "Hundreds. We are quite close."

"What now?"

Elladan was silent for a minute while he spoke to his twin, before relaying the conversation to Aragorn

"We move on, until we are on the opposite side of the camp from Elrohir, and stay in the trees away from the lookouts. No combat, just…check there's no sign of the prince before we head back to the other Rangers."

Aragorn nodded, trustingly. "Shouldn't we whistle? To let the others know about the orcs, I mean."

Elladan grinned ruefully. "We're already way out of earshot _tithen gwador. _The only thing a whistle would attract now is the orcs."

The human shivered slightly. Suddenly his two brothers and Glorfindel whom he had always thought invincible didn't seem like such good odds against hundreds of orcs. "Let's just check the camp and get back to the others then."

The elf smiled slightly. "An excellent plan. Lead the way."

Full darkness had fallen, and the air beneath the trees stilled into deep silence. A sudden draft, the exhalation of some giant leviathan, brought a fetid stench wafting towards the two brothers. Estel gagged and quickly covered his nose with his sleeve. Elladan felt his own eyes water.

"What is it?" asked Estel muffledly.

"_Yrch." _Elladan replied grimly. "Keep going. Quietly now."

A deep, rootless sense of dread crept over Elladan, and through his mental link with his twin, he could sense Elrohir was feeling it too. Malice seeped from the very bark of the trees, their hearts twisted by the interminable darkness that was swathed about them by the shadow's return.

Suddenly, Estel stopped, his breath in his mouth as he caught Elladan's arm. "Look!" He breathed.

In front of them, the trees suddenly dropped away, a huge clearing cutting across their path, stretching into the distance. The red glow of a dozen watch fires threw up immense shadows of the two hundred orcs sprawled on the ground and around the new tree stumps. The hewed trucks and branches had been dragged away and dumped forming a ring around the outside of the camp; sap slowly bleeding from the newly killed trees.

"There's so many." The young man whispered. Elladan couldn't even nod a reply, caught up in the now familiar flood of anger, fear and grief. The land he loved was slowly drowning in darkness and he was powerless to save her.

Looking down at the vile creatures stretched out in snorting sleep on the ground below, Estel felt a sudden wave of dizziness sweep across him. Feeling as if he were about to pitch forward, he reached out blindly, catching hold of Elladan's sleeve again to steady himself. And with another surge of nausea, his eyes darkened and the world reeled, he felt himself fall and suddenly-

_A still, green forest, misty in the dappled sunbeams. The song of a distant thrush echoes gently up to the sun. The silver ribbon of a tiny stream splashes over mossy rocks, and everywhere a good, clean, green smell extrudes from the peaceful earth. _

_A distant figure moving through the gentle trees. A man, dressed in black. He holds out his arms as he walks, to savour the warm sun, the light is dancing through the leaves of a branch learning over the path. The man looks, raises a hand to caresses a single, hanging beech leaf as if in greeting. _

_But at the touch of that finger, the leaf curls up, withering on its branch, crumbling into black dust as it slowly falls to the ground._

_A slight creak above, and the twig of the beech slowly turns black and twists away, the rot spreading up the branch, faster and faster, as with an increasing rustling sound, leaves rot and blacken, dropping to the ground. Finally, the blackness plunges into the tree's trunk, and the tree emits a piercing shriek, its bark peeling away in black clots._

_The man ignores the dying tree and moves to the next, a delicate silver birch; he runs a finger across its smooth bark. This time, the infection attacks the trunk first, the blackness eating deep into the tree's heart within seconds. Another dying cry bursts from the tree, and the sounds mingle as the living trees slowly shrivel away. The man walks to the next tree, touches its bark, and soon, all the trees are screaming and weeping sap tears, and the man is laughing amid the putrefied falling leaves. As he walks, the grass behinds him shrivels and dies, the stream he crosses flows with blood. The laughing man moves through the murdered forest, death goes before him, pestilence follows behind, and drowning it all are the screams of the trees. _

"Estel!" a voice cried and the world swirled sideways; the young man jerked his eyes open to see the ground a dizzying 20 feet below his dangling legs. He gasped, looking up, saw Elladan's white face and the Elf's grasp on his wrist, the only thing preventing him plunging down amongst the orcs below. Heart in his mouth, pulse pounding, Aragorn's boots scrabbled against the bark as Elladan slowly pulled him up into the tree with the strength only an Elf could summon. Once safe, Aragorn grasped the branches tightly in his trembling hands, his mind reeling as he tried to steady his breathing. Elladan clutched his shoulder, peering into his eyes with worry and fear. "_Tithen Gwador_, are you ill?"

"No, I'm fine, it's just…I saw a place, and…a man, he…the trees…they were screaming…and the blood…" Aragorn stopped as the full horror of the sight flooded back into his mind, the death and the screaming. And the blood.

"What happened to me?" He looked up at Elladan.

"You went all rigid, and then you sort of slumped and just fell out of the tree. I thought you had been shot." He stopped, looking at Estel for an explanation, but the man did not answer. Aragorn's mind was in turmoil. What was happening to him? First, that strange certainty about Legolas when he had been sitting with Celussë, and now this. This dream? A Vision? What did it all mean? He shook his head, trying to clear the ghosts from his mind.

Elladan, watched his brother worriedly, the panic of the last few minutes slowly fading, as Aragorn's sudden illness seemed just as suddenly over. The Elf closed his eyes, and, forcibly calming himself, focussed on the bright thread of his twin's essence in his mind, calling his name. This communication they shared was more than just a chance gift, he knew. They were probably lucky to get away with just fraternal telepathy, considering Galadriel was their grandmother.

"_Elrohir?"_

"_I'm here 'Dan." _Elrohir answered. And, sensing Elladan's worry, asked _"What's happened?"_

"_It's Estel. I don't think he is well."_

Elrohir's mind suddenly fogged with concern.

"_He's alright now." _Elladan clarified, _"He just fainted or … something."_

"_Is he going to be alright?_

"_Oh yes. Well, I think so. He's not injured. It's probably just tiredness." _

"_He'll be alright for a few more minutes then?"_

"_Look 'Ro, you're injured too. I really don't think-"_

"'_Dan. We have to look … now we found the belt."_

Ah yes. The belt. Elladan had felt the anger that had coursed through his younger, more impulsive twin at the sight of the orcs. Suddenly, Elladan felt Elrohir's mind pull back from his own, and he heard the echo of Elrohir's real voice in his head. He waited patiently while Elrohir spoke to Glorfindel until Elrohir returned.

"_Glorfindel and I are going to move eastwards, widdershins round the camp through the trees, so you-_

"_Go West, yes I know. If you see anything-"_

"_I'll keep in touch."_

The two pairs, separated by the clearing, moved on round the camp, slower now the darkness was making silent movement difficult, and nigh on impossible for the tired human. However, silent they most be, so they crept on through the branches, leaves rustling at their passing. The stench grew fouler, making Aragorn's head light. An orc snore made him start, and he realised he was holding his breath. His eyes hurt from trying to pick out the details of the slumbering bodies in the flickering light. He could almost convince himself he was seeing elves everywhere.

Suddenly, Elladan stopped as Elrohir flooded into his mind, filled with a dark thrill of panic.

"'_Dan! I can see the prisoners. There are about thirty."_

"_That'… a lot" _Elladan commented, fear rising in him again.

"_There are orcs everywhere, I-" _

Elrohir broke off suddenly, and Elladan felt a sudden surge of shock and horror before Elrohir managed to mask his emotions from him.

"_What is it?" _asked Elladan, frantic with dread. _"Elrohir?"_

"_I can see him. Legolas." _Elrohir whispered.

"_By all that's holy…where is he? Is he alright? Can he see you? Can you-" _

Elrohir was trembling.

"_Elladan…he's dead."_

* * *

translations _Uume the ni mae? _Will you be well?

_Ye _Yes

_Maem _I am well

_Mellon nin _My friend

_Tithen Gwador_Little brother

_Gwador nin _My brother

_Ada _Dad

_Anar _the sun

_Hopefully a new chapter shall shortly be forthcoming, although I am running out of ideas...Strange as it may seem, this is not intended to be an AU. Now you know..._

_With thanks to my darling Kementari, who stepped in at the last minute when my beta Raven went on holiday. Thanks tithen gwathel, love you._

_namárië ar sérë, híninya_

_nienna xx_


	9. Diversion

_Strolls up to computer_

_reads reviews_

_hides under computer desk quivering_

Hopefully this will placate. I did say it wasn't an AU!

Thanks for staying

love forever

nenny xx

* * *

Chapter 9 - Diversion

"_Elladan, I can see him. Legolas."_

"_By all that's holy…where is he? Can he see you? Can you-"_

_Elrohir was shaking._

"_Elladan…he's dead."_

"_What?"_ he asked, blankly.

"_Dead. He's…dead."_

"_He can't be." _Elladan reacted automatically._ "It's not him."_

"_Elladan. I can see him. There's nothing we can do. We're too late."_ Elrohir desperately tried to keep in control of his spiralling emotions.

"_Stop it. Stop it! I don't believe you."_

"_Elladan, I'm sorry…"_ Elrohir broke off.

Elladan slammed his fist into the tree's trunk before grief overtook his anger. He slowly leaned forward to press his forehead against the bark, his eyes tightly closed. Aragorn didn't need telepathic abilities to read the look on his brother's pale face and he turned away, unable to bear his expression anymore. They had failed. The prince was dead. The young man felt empty, as if he had lost something. Not in the same way he had felt when his mother died, not like losing a person, but more like…losing a chance. The twins stories had shown Legolas to him, and now he felt cheated, as if something, a friendship had been irrevocably snatched away. It was all wrong. That feeling at the forest gate. He had _known _Legolas was alive, and now…this. He looked at his grief-stricken brother and a deep anger burned inside him, invading all other feelings. How dare these creatures invade this land, murder its people, and cause his brothers so much hurt?

He carefully walked back along the branch to Elladan, and embraced his brother closely. The elf was taken momentarily by surprise, but returned the hug tightly. Aragorn spoke quietly to his brother's bowed head.

"We shall avenge him."

The elf raised his head and looked at his mortal brother with pain filled eyes. He said not a word, but gripped Aragorn's arm in silent thanks, before turning and moving off again through the trees. Aragorn followed him. _Elves and men. We really are not so different after all. _

The twins seem to have come to some decision between them that they would meet up somewhere near the southern end of the camp, but Aragorn didn't ask for clarification. Elladan's face, though normally pale, was white as chalk, and he looked exhausted. Aragorn knew that the sailing of the twins' mother had badly affected them, and he for the first time he wondered how many other friends must have been lost to the shadow. How would they get over this?

* * *

The sleeping orcs remained unaware as their enemies moved through the trees above their heads. Every so often, the pair would pass a watchful guard, but thankfully none of them looked up. The brothers' elven stealth and garments made them invisible in the arboreal darkness. 

After a time, they moved away from the edge of the camp, further off into the forest, until they could no longer hear the crackling watch fires and orc snores, and the smell grew somewhat more bearable. Without warning, Elladan began to descend the trunk of an ancient oak, and Aragorn followed silently behind. The elf sank to the ground at the base of the tree, without a sound, and his head in his hands. Aragorn stood by in the tree's shadow, helplessly. He diverted his eyes from his brother, and, looking about the tiny moonlit clearing, wondered if this was the meeting place arranged with the others. Now he was standing still, the ache in his shoulder intensified, and he suddenly realised how tired and hungry he was. He pushed the thought away angrily, rubbing his arm. His brothers' friend was dead and all he could think about was his stomach. He looked at the silent Elladan with fear, wondering what he would say Elrohir. Anger surged through him again. He felt so useless!

Suddenly, there was a movement in the darkness above, but before Estel could react; the two other elves dropped to the ground in front of him. Elrohir looked as pale as Elladan, but his face had an ill, green tinge. The young man just had time to note Elrohir's blood soaked sleeve before the elf fell beside his brother, and was drawn into a tight embrace. Aragorn looked across at Glorfindel, who was watching the twins with a saddened, wearied look. Aragorn got the impression he had seen too many scenes like this in his long life. The warrior walked slowly across the clearing to the twins, and knelt beside them, laying a comforting hand on each shoulder, murmuring quiet words of consolation.

Aragorn stood awkwardly to one side, watching the elves' grief and pain unfold, but unable to share in it or ease it, however much he wanted to. He felt lost. Everything was the wrong way around. All through his life, his brothers had protected and comforted him. The twins were always there to hold him when he was hurt from a fall or frightened by a nightmare. He was the one who had needed comfort. He was the one who had cried.

He couldn't watch anymore, feeling like an intruder on their grief which he had no part of. He walked off a short way into the trees, and, sitting in the damp hollow at the base of a twisted oak, glared into the dark. What would they do now? Go home? Go to the Mirkwood palace? Bring the hopeful king news that his only son was tortured to death, and they had been too late to save him? Aragorn felt sick to the bottom of his soul at the very prospect. The body. At least they could return his son's body to him. The young man stood up, brushing the leaf mould from his cloak, before pulling it tightly about him. Shivering in the darkness, he slowly walked back to the others.

* * *

"A diversion. Here." Elladan pointed with his stick. 

By the time Aragorn had returned, one of the twins had already scratched a rough map of the orc's encampment into the dirt of the forest floor, and the three elves were leaning over it, planning. Grief not forgotten, but temporarily put aside.

Glorfindel shook his head. "It's too obvious. They would realise it was a trap immediately, and head straight back to the prisoners." He gestured to a leaf, which apparently represented the orc's hostages.

The young human was secretly relieved that the twins looked more angry than upset now. Anger he could cope with. He just hoped they wouldn't do anything rash. From the look on Glorfindel's face, so did he.

"Not if there were _two_ diversions…" Elrohir said slowly.

Aragorn sat down quietly next to Elrohir, and used the opportunity to get a closer look at his brother's injury. His shirt sleeve was soaked in old blood, but the arm underneath was well bandaged, and there didn't appear to be any new bleeding. The young man decided to let it lie, as Elladan continued the debate.

"Brother, before you start getting too ambitious, do remember there are only three-"

"Four!"

"Alright. _Four_ of us."

Aragorn leaned in, and studied the map. "That's not necessarily a problem," he mused. "If the first attack, one elf, comes from _here, _by the entrance to the camp, and the second…'Ro, lend me your stick…two of us over _there_ on the opposite side, then those orcs not taken in by the first, will be dealing with the second diversion, and miss the actual raid, which is executed by the fourth person _here_." He circled the leaf with a flourish.

The twins looked at each other doubtfully, though Glorfindel looked impressed.

"_Could it work?"_ Elladan asked his brother in his mind, apprehensively.

Elrohir was feeling rash._ "Probably not. Let's go!"_

Aragorn rapped Elladan on the knee with his stick. "Out loud please," he commanded. Elrohir almost smiled.

Elladan coughed. "Would that work?"

"Who cares?" shrugged Elrohir

"I think it's a remarkably astute plan considering the circumstances." Glorfindel said quietly. "I say aye."

"Then so do I!" declared Elrohir loudly. Elladan hushed him.

"Right," said Glorfindel briskly, after a surreptitious glance at Elrohir. "I will take charge of the first diversion, at the northern end near the road. Then, Elladan, Elrohir, you create a second diversion at the east side of the camp, away from the prisoners. Pick them off from the trees; they won't know how many of you there are. I'll join you if I can. Aragorn, _mellon nin, _that leaves you to rescue Legol_-" _he swallowed. "...the _body_…in all the confusion."

The twins looked at Aragorn doubtfully again. The young man sighed. He was getting rather fed up with that look.

"Are you sure-"

"Elladan! There is nothing whatsoever wrong with your young brother's skills or sense of responsibility," Glorfindel snapped. "He may be only a fraction of your age, but he has already proved himself capable many times over. Stop looking at him as the boy he used to be, and see him as the man he is now! I place my faith in him completely. Perhaps you two would afford him the same courtesy."

Elrond's sons looked at Glorfindel in amazement, and Aragorn felt himself colour with embarrassment. The blonde elf stood up. "Thank you! Now, if that's settled? Let's go."

* * *

Aragorn shifted uncomfortably and stared into the darkness across the camp. As per instructions, he was crouching in a blackened beech on the western side of the oval camp. The others had vanished into the darkness about half an hour ago, Glorfindel to Aragorn's left and the northern road; the twins, heading to the eastern side of the camp, had disappeared into the darkness on Aragorn's right. Nervously, he relayed the plan over in his mind for the hundredth time. He had never seen so many orcs before. He had, of course, heard the stories of Mirkwood during the dark time under the Necromancer. Being just nine summers when the evil was driven from Dol Guldor had meant he had always thought that somehow the orcs would have just left too. Clearly, that impression was entirely wrong. There were more orcs than ever. 

_The darkness is growing again_. The vision of the black-clad man and the screaming trees rose to his mind and he shivered.

This night seemed to have gone on for ever, each second containing a slow eternity. The chill bit through his clothes, and his fingers were numb on rough bark. He had eaten half of one of his three lembas breads, but the stench of the orcs had quite put him off the food. He glanced at the moon anxiously, and then to his left across the still slumbering camp. There were barely two hours of darkness left before dawn. Glorfindel's diversion was late. Estel's insides contracted with worry. He hoped nothing had happened.

* * *

Glorfindel slipped through the trees, agile as a cat, and silent as a shadow. Below him at the entrance to the camp, three orc sentries, quiet and still, gazed watchfully into the darkness. Most ordinary people in Middle Earth seemed to have been stuffed with the rumour that orcs were stupid. They were most certainly argumentative, selfish and smelly. But stupid? Oh no. Orcs were cunning, backstabbing, and extremely dangerous. The Dark Enemy was not such a fool as to create mindless servants. It was true; your average orc did not exactly top the scale intelligence-wise. But it certainly did not pay to underestimate them. Especially when the ambush in question has you outnumbered by about two hundred orcs to three elves and a human boy. That, of course, was the reason behind the double bluff with the diversions, although, despite his encouraging words, even Glorfindel was beginning to have second thoughts on that subject. 

He crouched low on a branch, training his keen eyesight to the ground ten feet below. A diversion...but how? He had confidently told the others he would improvise something on the spot. But it was going to have to be something fairly impressive, if this plan was to work. Shooting a couple of orcs and then disappearing into the trees was not going to be enough. A cloud passed from across the moon, and the pale light illuminated a small mound of dry grass running across the side of the camp, and a couple of stacked wooden barrels leaning against it. The elf's eyes gleamed.

* * *

Aragorn shivered; cold, tired, cramped and desperately worried. It was now an hour since the others had vanished into the darkness, and nothing was happening. The waiting was driving him mad. All he had to do was to shiver, ache and count his own heartbeats. He supposed he would know if the others had been caught by some commotion in the camp. At the moment, all was still and silent. 

He ran through the rendezvous plan in his head again. He would meet with the others to the North, where the orc road met the forest path and where they had left the horses…was that really only this morning? So much had happened. If the plan failed somehow, they were to travel on to the forest gate, and meet up with the rangers. It soundedas if nothing could go wrong. _Knowing my luck_, Aragorn thought gloomily, _that means that probably everything will. _

Just then, a flash of light across the camp caught his eye, and he spun round, staring desperately into the dark, heart thudding. Was this it? Was something finally happening? He strained his eyes. Nothing. Disappointed, he decided he had been imagining things. Suddenly, a second flash of light streaked from the trees to the ground. Like miniature lightning, it was so fast; you'd miss it if you weren't looking. Aragorn grinned. _Fire arrows_. He wasn't quite sure what Glorfindel was up to, but he was quite sure it would be memorable. And it was at that precise moment that three barrels of pungent orc liquor, pierced by the fiery arrows, exploded, covering the nearby sleeping orcs with boiling alcohol, and setting fire to the camp.

* * *

The leaves of the darkened tree rustled in the chill breeze. Behind its whispering branches, two darker silhouettes were faintly outlined by the shimmering moon. Neither spoke and they barely seemed to breathe; two identical statues carved in stone, one crouched and one standing. Suddenly across the camp, a small explosion blasted bright flames into the sky, followed swiftly by shouts and harsh cries. The camp burst into life and confusion as the fire devoured the dry grass and burning orcs shrieked and ran, panicking. The golden light of the fire flickered through tree branches, picking out highlights in raven hair, and glinting in dark eyes. One twin gave a slight nod, and the two sped away into the darkness.

* * *

Aragorn watched tensed, as the commotion in the camp unfolded before him, his heart racing in his chest. He quickly stretched his arms, knowing he had to be ready to move the moment his signal came. Below, orcs scalded by the burning liquid ran shrieking, trying to smother their burning garments. Others leapt forwards to the flames trying to rescue their own possessions. Another clump of dry grass burst into flames, but Aragorn knew there wasn't really any danger of the fire spreading. Forest fires could be hugely destructive, but he knew it was too damp under the trees for it to spread away from this clearing. An orc commander began shouting instructions, flaying about him with a leather whip and chaos ensued as orcs ran in every direction. Aragorn began to wonder if the second diversion would be necessary after all, when the commanding orc gave a harsh shout, brandishing his clenched fist in the air. Aragorn couldn't see what was held there, but he could guess. They'd found one of Glorfindel's arrows. 

"A trick!" The orc howled in the common tongue. "An elf trick! Protect the camp to the east!" At their chief's command, tens of orcs broke away from the fire running back across the clearing, howling in anger. Right on cue, four elvish arrows zipped from the trees in front of them, felling the leading orcs instantly.

Aragorn's heart gave a jolt. Elladan and Elrohir had started their attack. Now it was his turn. He jumped down from the tree, and began to run round the edge of the tree line hunched low to the ground. His stiff legs ached but he ignored them, concentrating on the floor in front of him, so as to move as silently as possible in the commotion all around. He ducked under a low branch, and froze in his tracks as an orc ran past him not ten feet away. Only daring to breathe out once the orc had vanished into the fray, Aragorn silently thanked every Valar he knew that the smell of burning grog had masked his own sent from the creature. He ran on, and came to a halt at the edge of the camp. From here, he could see what Elrohir saw all those hours ago; the shadows of the bound prisoners on the ground, each group of five tied to a stake driven into the forest floor. There were camp fires and positions for orc guards around the prisoners, but thankfully, these had been deserted in the confusion. A sudden realisation struck Aragorn, as he finally noticed the flaw in Glorfindel's plan. _He was the only one who had no idea what the elven prince looked like. _He stared at the shadowy prisoners in panic. Elrohir had been able to see the Prince from the trees, but how would he recognise him? Well, he'd have to do the best he could.

Aragorn took a swift look across the camp. All the orcs were either desperately trying to contain the fire, fighting the invisible attackers in the trees, or were running around aimlessly. The head orcs were shouting hoarse instructions at their soldiers and generally adding to the chaos. The prisoners were being ignored, but probably not for long. The young man took a deep breath, drew his knife, and ran into the camp, ducking low to the ground.

He reached the first stake, and dropped to the ground, quickly reaching out to the first prisoner. His stomach turned in revulsion and, horrified, he snatched his hand away again. The young man had been dead for a long time; his blank, dark eyes stared up helplessly at the sky. Felling shaky, Aragorn quickly moved away, searching through the prisoners as fast as he could. Several were dead, and he could see some dying before his eyes. Most were unconscious, but Aragorn quickly cut their bonds in case they had a chance to escape later. As Aragorn bent over a blond haired man, he suddenly opened his eyes, and Estel jerked back in surprise. The man leaned forwards and grasped Aragorn's wrist. His eyes were wild. "Help me!" he croaked hoarsely.

"I'm looking for a friend," Aragorn began, but the man cut him off wildly.

"Free me now!"

"Please…be quieter! I'll help you and the others but I have to find my friend first. He's an elf-"

The man jerked his head. "Over there! Now free me."

"Alright, but you have to help me carry him." Aragorn fumbled for his knife, and cut the ropes. The man bounded to his feet and dashed away into the forest.

"Hey!" Aragorn whispered fiercely. "Come back! You said-" but the man was gone.

Aragorn looked around helplessly and it was at that moment, one of his distant brothers cried out in pain, and an orkish archer howled with delight. Aragorn's heart jolted, and he nearly ran to help his injured brother, but stopped himself at the last moment. He had to get Legolas's body away, and then his brothers could escape. There was nothing he would achieve by attacking the orcs. Aragorn looked up to where the young man had indicated. A single stake stood alone at a distance from the others. Aragorn dashed over the stake and dropped to the ground, his heart racing. A huddled form lay on the ground in front of him, a slight wisp of dirty blonde hair moving lightly in the wind. Realising his hands were shaking, Aragorn reached out and gently rolled the figure over. A pale, blood stained face reflected the moon light with a false imitation of life, and Aragorn gasped, his memory stirring. This could be no-one but Prince Legolas. Even through the dirt and blood, Aragorn could see the resemblance with Celussë which had struck him so strongly at their first meeting, even when he hadn't known why. He quickly looked the Prince over. His injuries had been horrible, and Aragorn felt sadness well up in him again. His pain must have been terrible at the end.

The young human quickly pulled at the rough bonds with his elven dagger, but the knots around the elf's wrists were too tight. Panicking, he sliced at the rope around the stake and crouched forwards to lift the prince in his arms. Suddenly, his instincts screamed at him, and he ducked; a blade swished over his head. Barely thinking, he rolled to the side, drawing his sword and saw the enormous orc which had sneaked up behind him. The creature growled and swung its scimitar down towards him. Aragorn just scrambled out of the way as the blade bit deep into the soft earth, leaping to his feet. The orc had already freed its blade, and swung heavily at his head again. Stumbling back, Estel just blocked the attack, his arms jarring with the impact. The orc didn't let up for an instant, and their blades crashed again. Desperately Aragorn's mind raced. The orc was too strong for him. As the scimitar slashed round, he stumbled to one side; the orc snorted with laughter, thinking his weaker enemy was beaten. Aragorn stepped out of the feint, swinging round impossibly fast and stabbed his dagger deep into the orc's gut. The creature gave a short scream of pain before Aragorn slashed across it's throat with his sword. The creature dropped to the ground with a thump. Breathing heavily, Aragorn looked up at a sudden shout of anger. About fifty orcs, hearing their comrades dying scream had turned and seen him standing sword drawn by their prize prisoner. It would seem the time for subtlety was past.

Aragorn dashed forwards, snatching the Prince up in his arms, the rope dangling from his wrists. The body was very light, and his head fell against Aragorn's shoulder. The young man quickly ran for the trees. Other prisoners called out to him, but he did not look back, though their cries stabbed his heart. He ducked under the branches and into the blessed darkness, hearing the orc cries behind him. At least his brothers would have a chance to escape now. If they weren't already to badly hurt. The trees crowded in around him, but he dared not stop, heading as westwards as he could. Estel pushed through the bushes, trying to put as much distance between himself and the camp as he could. He hugged the body close to him as he ran, distressed by the indignity to the poor elf of being lumped around like a sack. _Aquista, díheno nin hir nin. _

Soon he realised how loud his breathing sounded. The forest around had fallen silent. Looking back, Aragorn saw he had left a trail so obvious in his flight that a blind mumâk could follow him in its sleep. Cursing himself for every kind of idiot, he realised the orcs tracking him quietly could be upon them in minutes. He looked around desperately. The undergrowth was so thick he'd leave a trail whichever way he went, and he'd already come too far south. It would have to be the trees then. But orcs could climb and he couldn't, not carrying a body, however light it was. And Legolas was starting to feel less light by the minute. And there was pain of his own too in his sword arm, clamouring for attention. He must had been hit in the fight. That would have to be dealt with too.

Trying not to panic, Estel looked up at the nearest tree, a branchless pine, subconsciously praying as hard as he could. _A beleg Gilthoniel ar Kementari, __ae im veleth lîn, aquista tulu nin! _He stepped forwards hopelessly, intending to carry on running, and at that moment, the ropes holding Legolas's hands tied together came untangled. The elf's thin hand dropped, brushing against the bark of the pine. Aragorn looked round in surprise as the tree seemed almost to shiver. He heard a rustle of leaves and glanced up as a thin rope ladder slowly unrolled down the tree's trunk, dropping sharply to the ground, its end catching him squarely in the eye. He lowered the elf's body to the ground, running the suspended rope ladder through his hands in amazement. He tugged on the end; it seemed strong. He looked up into the tree's foliage again but it offered no clue as to the origin of his salvation. It was either the magic of the woodland elves that was so strong they could communicate with nature even after death or…Or he really was loved by the gods.

The rope ladder seemed to stretch up to an impossible height, while all the time, Aragorn's sensitive ears began to pick up the sounds of the orcs moving closer. Throwing caution to the winds, Aragorn lifted Legolas again, somehow managing to hold him against his shoulder and grasp the hithlain rope with his other hand. The climb was deadly. The thin ropes cut into the palm of his hand, and the ladder swung precariously with every movement he made. He tried in vain to steady himself against the tree trunk. The muscles in his legs complained furiously, and every time he looked down, the ground seemed to heave giddily. He quickly closed his eyes, feeling sick. He'd never been good with heights.

Just as he reached the very top of the ladder, his knees gave way and he just managed to grab the edge of the wooden platform with his free hand. He felt as if his lungs would burst. Offering a silent regretful prayer of apology to the departed soul, he pushed the elf up onto the platform, rolling his body away before finally clambering up himself and collapsing onto the decking. There was no time to pause however, and he quickly grabbed the edges of the telltale ladder, pulling it up as fast as he could, and coiling the rope up where it was firmly knotted to the tree trunk.

He heard a noise below and, carefully crawling to the edge of the platform on his stomach, peered over. Thirty foot below on the forest floor, six orcs crept stealthily through the undergrowth. The leading orc, a tracker, stopped at the base of the tree and looked around into the dim forest with evident confusion. The orc glared upwards suspiciously, and Aragorn pulled his head back out of sight, although he wasn't sure if the orc could see him in the dense darkness of the pine branches. He lay on his back, listening to the growling argument of the orcs below, before finally the group turned and jogged back towards the camp.

Aragorn lay still for a few minutes, getting his breath and bearings back. The platform, he realised, was actually an elven _talan_, such as the ones the March Warden's built in the mallorn trees of Lothlorien. The man could tell this flet had long been abandoned though, from the dense pine needle carpet covering it. The tangy sent of pine resin rose from the tree all around him. Another coil of rope, an empty quiver, an oil lamp and a pile of mouldering blankets stacked neatly at the talan's centre were the only evidence it's once vigilant occupants. Perhaps all of these outlying watch posts had been abandoned when the shadow of Dol Guldor first began to spread.

Aragorn desperately wanted to lie there on that safe platform forever. His mind was filled with fear for his brothers and Glorfindel, and horror at the sights he had seen. His body ached with weariness, and he felt the first creepings of panic at his situation. For the first time in his life, he was totally alone. Bar the dead body of course. Ah yes. The body. The young man gently rolled the elf over, feeling desperately as if he ought to be doing something. Legolas's face was pale in death, his heavy eyelids closed over those blue eyes, the beautiful features marred with blood and bruises. Anger and helplessness washed over Estel. Why was this happening? Elves were not supposed to just die. But all over his beloved Middle Earth, immortal and human lives were being snatched away; tortured and murdered by cruel beasts intent on mindless destruction.

Aragorn lifted Legolas's hand. The thin orc bonds had been tied so tightly, that they had actually cut into the elf's thin wrists. Strands of the twine were still embedded in the wounds. Automatically, Aragorn grabbed a clean cloth and water bottle from his bag, carefully pulling the thin rope from the elf's skin, and washing the filthy cuts. He had a sudden memory of a moment years ago in Rivendell, watching his father working on a cut on Elladan's brow.

"_You must always remember to keep the wounds clean, Estel. That is the most important point of healing. A healer cannot win in a fight against infection." _

His father. And just thinking about Elrond made Aragorn miss him so hard it hurt. He needed his ada now to tell him what to do. He didn't know anything about Elven mortuary rights. It felt so wrong, so…_disrespectful_ to see the broken body of the Prince of Mirkwood just lying alone in the cold dark. And how was he supposed to bring the news to the elf's family? Aragorn knew that relations between Legolas and Thranduil had not been wonderful, but they were father and son for Valar's sake. Losing another loved one might destroy the elven king.

Aragorn pulled his spare cloak from his pack, and folded it under the blond head. Then he lifted Legolas's hands, composing his limbs by his sides. King Thranduil should never-

Suddenly Aragorn stopped dead. He had felt something under his fingers. Could it be…? He dropped the elf's hand and scrambled forwards, fingers flying to the side of Legolas's throat. There it was again! He looked into the elf's face, hope and fear pounding into his heart in a second. He gave a sudden yell and sprung backwards as the blue eyes fluttered open.

He looked down at the elf in pure shock. The creature lay still, pain-filled sapphire eyes darting around the talan, trying to get his bearings. He slowly shifted his head, and looking upwards, noticed Aragorn. The elf looked at him in silence for what felt like a very long time, and Aragorn had a strange feeling of _rightness,_ like the world had just fallen back into its correct path. He was even more surprised when Legolas's eyes cleared for a second, and theelf spoke to him, his voice rough with pain.

"Estel. You've grown."

Then the elf closed his eyes and passed out.

* * *

Translations: 

A beleg Gilthoniel ar Kementari, ae im veleth lîn, aquista tulu nin! - _Mighty Elbereth and Yavanna, if you love me, please help me now!_

Aquista, díheno nin hir nin - _please forgive me my lord._

_...at least I hope it does! I'm not exactly an elvish expert...In answer to _Raven's _question, I downloaded an elvish dictionary from a website a while back, and most of the phrases I make up from that. (I have also used elvish from the film in places as well...) I really dont have any clue about grammer etc. If anyone can point out where I go wrong, I'd be grateful! Thanks._

_I fear a bad case of Real Life is going round at the moment as Exams are marching along the horizon.Hopefully exam leave should just give me some more writing time...one can but dream. Cest la vie._

_Until next time then. Oh, and watch out for that Real Life. I hear it's infectious..._

_namárië ar sérë, híninya_

_nienna xx_


	10. Lost

_Greetings my friends. I must apologise again for the delay - I seem to start every chapter in this vein. I have taken this chapter apart more times than I care to remember, hopefully the result is more satisfactory than earlier attempts. Thanks to all my readers, and especially my loyal reviewers. Your words mean more to me than I can say. _

_love forever_

_nenny xx_

Disclaimer: _(just in case you didn't know by now) I am only writing this story for my personal enjoyment. I don not own any of the recognisable characters or places in this story, and I am not making any financial profit from it. _

**

* * *

Chapter 10 - Lost **

_He looked down at the elf in pure shock. The creature lay still, pain-filled sapphire eyes darting around the talan, trying to get his bearings. He slowly shifted his head, and looking upwards, noticed Aragorn. The elf looked at him in silence for what felt like a very long time, and Aragorn had a strange feeling of rightness, like the world had just fallen back into its correct path. He was even more surprised when Legolas spoke in the common tongue, his voice rough with pain._

"_Estel. You've grown."_

_Then the elf closed his eyes and passed out. _

* * *

Aragorn sat frozen, staring at the still elf, barely able to comprehend what had just happened. Numbly he leaned forwards and took the elf's pulse again. Legolas lived. And he, Aragorn, one supposed to be knowledgeable in the art of healing had not noticed. What kind of healer did that, took an observers word that life had gone, and did not check himself? Who knows how badly he had aggravated the Prince's wounds by moving him. 

A rush of emotions; anger, relief, panic, sadness; flooded through him so strongly he was unable to move for it. Elladan and Elrohir…they would wait for him by the forests edge, grieving. He wasn't even sure if he could find the meeting clearing again. Sweet Elbereth, what if his brothers sent a missive to Thranduil? But the Prince was alive, and that was what mattered. But what if Legolas died in his care, because he wasn't capable enough to save him? He didn't know what to do. With surprise, Estel realised there were tears on his face, and for the second time that night, the young man angrily cursed himself, wiping his eyes furiously on his sleeve. This was not the time to be feeling self-pitying. He quickly fumbling in his pack for his healer's bandages and herbs, and set to work to save the prince's life.

* * *

Half an hour later, Aragorn rubbed his eyes with his blooded sleeve, and looked up. It must have been nearly fully daylight, but only a muted half light filtered through the dense foliage above. He fell back against the tree, exhausted. Prince Legolas's wounds were extensive and they frightened him. The young man had done his best. What else was there to do? 

He found several deep cuts on the Prince's body, the worst of these being an abdominal stab wound. Aragorn worked as fast as he could to stop the sluggish bleeding and clean the wounds. He couldn't see well enough in the dawn light to sew them, praying that a compress and bandage would hold until he could get to help. And when that would be, who could say?

There was also a sword cut into the elf's leg, which looked as if infection had already set in; the skin surrounding it was mottled red and inflamed. After cleaning the wound as well as he could, the young man moved to the elf's right arm, feeling sickened by the orcs' cruel behaviour. The limb was broken just below the elbow, and Aragorn saw that by carrying the elf, he had caused the arm to become even more badly twisted. He bit back his resentment. Getting angry with himself would not help Legolas. He strapped up the Prince's arm as best as he could while being careful of the elf's broken ribs in the process. There was nothing further he could do to help there.

The elf's face was pale as death in the dark light of _Taur-nu-Fuin, _and the blood from the cut which slashed across his brow still trickled down over his cheek and lips; a horrible, violent colour. Aragorn put down the half-full water bottle; he couldn't spare any water for cleaning the elf's face. Any traveller unwise enough to stray into Mirkwood knew he would not find untainted water flowing in that forest, Aragorn had never intended on being divided from his brothers and their supplies. Pushing down this new worry, Aragorn dug into his back and came across a spare shirt he had packed back in Imladris – was it really a mere four days ago? Mindful of the elf's wounds, he carefully pulled the faded shirt over the unconscious blonde head. It was far too big, and hung from the elf's thin frame, the sleeves falling over his delicate hands. Tiredly, Aragorn picked up the elf's discarded blood-soaked shirt. It felt surprisingly heavy, and Aragorn saw a small leaf-shaped clasp which had somehow remained pinned to the collar of the shirt. The man absentmindedly tucked the pin into his tunic pocket, before tearing a clean hem from the Prince's old shirt. Estel gently swabbed the blood from the Prince's face, before falling back exhausted. There. He was done.

The elf had not woken or stirred throughout Aragorn's ministrations, and for that, he was grateful. The young man was desperate for rest, but he knew he could not afford to sleep now. The Prince was already closer to death than life. Aragorn sighed, reached out to pick up his pack and his arm stabbed with a sudden searing pain. He dropped the bag, biting back a cry, and carefully rolled up his own blooded sleeve; surprised to see a long jagged sword slash that had torn the flesh down the length of his arm. It must have been the fight back in the camp, but in the heat of the moment he hadn't even noticed the injury. The sight of the oozing wound suddenly made him feel dizzy; he fought against the nausea, and, using a tiny amount of their precious water to wash the cut, bandaged it tightly with a spare cloth. Now they would have to be gone.

Carefully, he crawled on his stomach to the edge of the flet and peered over. The morning forest looked scarcely different to that of the night before. The dense trees bowed inwards, cutting off the light as effectively as if a black shroud had been laid across the forest. If there had ever been a path from the elven talan, it had long since disappeared, and the dense foliage stretched away into the dim darkness under the trees. Aragorn strained his senses, but heard no movement in the forest around. There was a deep stillness under the trees.

Watchful.

Waiting.

With a sigh, the young man repacked his bag, and moved over to the unconscious elf. His healer's instincts knew it could be very dangerous to move the elf in his condition, but what choice did he have? If he didn't get out of this forest they would both die.

* * *

The weight of the unconscious elf pulled on his wounded arm; Aragorn stumbled, dizzy with tiredness and hunger and pain. A harsh cry echoed through the still trees as a startled raven took to wing, eyes glinting in the gloom as it vanished into the darkness. Estel froze, waiting for watchers to leap on them from the shadows, but the deep silence slowly refilled the forest around them. Carefully lowering his precious burden to the ground, Aragorn looked about him, finally forced to admit that he was completely lost. The dense trees offered no glimpse of the sun and so no notion as to how many hours had passed since they had left the safety of the flet behind them, or even what direction they were travelling in. Once Aragorn had stumbled across an orc path, but had seen no other clue as to the direction the camp they had fled during the night. 

Fighting the rising panic, Aragorn fell exhausted next to the injured elf, blinking to try and clear his head. Automatically, he leaned forwards to check the elf's bandages, pulling the faded shirt aside to check the stab wound. The elf's eyes jerked open; he gave a sudden cry of pain, and Aragorn snatched his hand away in surprise. Legolas rolled away from him, his hand reaching to his missing belt to grab his missing dagger. Aragorn, heart racing, quickly caught the elf's shoulders trying to hold him still as gently as possible. He murmured soothing nothings, trying to calm the elf, to stop him moving and hurting himself. Legolas lay still glancing about him, confusion and fear in his bright eyes, and pale forehead creased with pain. _"Gwanno ereb nin! Iston le? I moe dhuath…orthor sinome…." (Leave me alone! Who are you? There is a shadow…holding sway in this place…) _his voice unintentionally loud and tinged with panic.

Aragorn hushed him soothingly. "It's alright. You're safe! I rescued you from the orcs, and we're heading back to Riv- I mean, Imladris and-"

"_Iston le?" (Who are you?)_

Aragorn suddenly felt surprised. The Prince had recognised him last night! Why had that not occurred to him as strange before?

"My name is Estel."

"Estel?" A half look of recognition glimmered in the elf's fevered eyes, but it faded, to be replaced with confusion. _"Le Ú-a-edhelen? Heniach nin?" (You are not an elf? Can you understand me?)_

"_Ye. Telin le thaed." (Yes. I've come to help you.)_

"_Mani marte? Im…naeg_…" _(What has happened? I am…in pain…)_

"_Idh, idh si." (Rest, rest now) _Aragorn comforted. _"Ea na gwiil". (Be at peace.)_

The elf's mouth moved as if he would say more, but he lay quiet against Aragorn's arm, fever bright eyes blinking slowly against the darkness. Aragorn carefully lifted the water skin and poured a little onto the elf's lips. Legolas lifted a shaking hand to hold the skin. Aragorn let him, steadying the flask whilst the elf drank gladly. He knew how important independence was to many elves. He wondered how much of their current situation he ought tell his patient.

"Do you want anything to eat?"

Legolas shook his head, his face pale at the thought of food. Aragorn let the subject rest. They only had a small amount of food left.

"We must get to the edge of the woods, my lord. My brothers are waiting there for us. Can you walk at all?"

The elf nodded but did not speak. Aragorn stood, and carefully helped the prince to his feet. Legolas winced slightly, leaning on Estel's arm. Swinging his almost empty pack over his shoulder, and swiftly looking behind to check there was no sign of their passing, the man lead the elf slowly on through the trees.

* * *

"Don't worry. Everything will be just fine, you'll see. We'll make it safely back to edge of the woods, and my _gwadors _will help us find the way back. Do you have any brothers? Rivendell is beautiful in _Laire, _our summer." 

Estel felt he had been chattering on inanely forever, desperately hoping to distract the elf from his pain and stop him passing out. Legolas did not make any answer, concentrating all effort on putting one foot in front of the other. His face and lips were pale and each breath stabbed pain through his cracked ribs.

A nasty voice inside him had quickly informed Aragorn that he was trying to distract himself too. He knew it was true. The moment he began to think about their situation, fear coursed freely through his veins, cold ice in his stomach. He was lost in Mirkwood with a desperately wounded elven prince, an arm injury, no horses, few supplies and two hundred orcs on their trail. Things could hardly be grimmer. _At least it's not raining_…

Estel's heart felt wracked for the elf's pitiful condition. If they did not meet up with the twinssoon, he would have to carry the elf again. And even though the creature was light, Estel knew he would not be able to carry him far. And then… _And then? Do not think it. It WILL NOT come to that._

Legolas' arm hung like a weight on Aragorn's neck and shoulders. Every so often the elf would give his head a small shake, and once he whispered something in a ancient tongue that Aragorn did not know. _To shake off the demons _Aragorn thought suddenly, without being able to say why. Despair began to grow like a canker in his heart. The nasty little voice in his mind began to whisper _what ifs _and he couldn't deny or answer them.

Suddenly–either by some coincidence of sparse foliage and moving clouds, or by miraculous grace - the leaves rustled and the pair were bathed in a bright shaft of golden midday sunlight. The elf sighed, his head lolled onto Aragorn's shoulder, feeling the sun's warmth on his closed lids. The man simply stood, bathing in the life-giving rays, and for a moment felt as if every prayer was answered, every question and doubt melting in the sun's warmth. Then, the moment passed, and the light faded, leaving two pale faces like ghosts in the gloom. The light had lasted for little more than five heartbeats, but it was enough. Determination sprang anew inside Aragorn's heart. "Come on" he murmured through gritted teeth and led the elf on.

A feather skittering across the path in front of them caught the man's attention, and he glanced down. The soft ground beneath their feet was marked with the lightest indentations.

"_Sedho, mellon nin". _Frowning, he un-wrapped his arm from the puzzled elf's shoulders, and knelt on the ground, touching the tracks with his fingers. Light hoof prints stretched away across the glade, vanishing into the gloom. Elven horses. Four elven horses. Trying to quell the excitement building up in him, Aragorn quickly moved forwards, doubled over, following the tracks. About fifty yards further on from where the elf stood, the hoof marks suddenly crossed each other in a confusion of prints, and Aragorn suddenly saw a single human boot mark in the damp ground. Estel couldn't stop the stupid grin that plastered itself across his face. His boot mark. They were back on track! This was the very clearing where he and his brothers had dismounted their horses only yesterday. The orc road and the rendezvous point were just ahead through the trees. The twins and Glorfindel would be waiting and- He was so caught up in his own thoughts; he barely heard the elf's whisper.

"Estel!"

Spinning round, he saw the Prince's eyes involuntarily close, and the elf swayed. Running over, Aragorn caught the elf as his knees gave way. The elf collapsed forwards into Estel's arms, and the young man lowered his weight to the ground. He quickly grabbed the elf's hand, patting it desperately.

"_Thranduilion! Hir nin, lasto beth nin! Kwivra!"_

Legolas did not respond, but Aragorn saw a slight sheen of sweat on his brow and closed eyelids, and touching Legolas' skin, the man found it burning with a trembling heat. He had pushed the injured elf too hard. Gently he straightened the elf's limbs and, with one hand under the elf's neck, carefully lifted his head to rest it on the discarded pack. Aragorn knew then his options were running out. He dare not carry the elf further, not with a fever setting in. But if he did not get the elf to safety soon he would be beyond any help, save that of the gods. Estel was torn. He glanced down at the pale elf. The cut on the smooth forehead had pulled open again, and a slow trickle of crimson blood was dripping down the side of the immortal's cheek. Aragorn wiped it with his sleeve, watching as Legolas' eyes darted under his closed eyelids. Elves never slept with their eyes closed, unless they were in great pain.

His mind made up, Aragorn carefully lowered the elf into a small hollow at the roots of a twisted pine, and, unhooking his cloak, laid it gently over the elf's still form. He grabbed handfuls of leaf mould and quickly scattered them over the cloak, bending a branch down to cover the elf as best as he could. Stepping back he nodded, satisfied that the elf was concealed from any unfriendly glances. Leaving the elf alone jarred against every instinct and feeling, but he had to find his brothers and the horses. He had to get aid. He prayed they would be back soon. He knelt beside the wounded prince, laying a gentle hand over the elf's shadowed eyes.

"Rest easy _mellon nin._ I shall return. This I swear to you;_ fedhin na anar arien, kemen nen, cuine sereg."_

The elf's eyes seemed to still beneath their lids and his breathing quietened. Aragorn didn't know if he imagined it.

With one final, uneasy, lingering glance backwards, Estel turned to stumble off through the trees, towards what he hoped would be their salvation.

_

* * *

Taur-nu-Fuin - Mirkwood _

"_Mellon nin" – _My friend

"_Hir nin" – _My Lord

"_Gwadors" – _Brothers

"_Laire" – _Summer, the second season of Imladris.

"_Fedhin na anar arien, kemen nen, cuine sereg" – _bound in agreement by sun's light, earth's waters, life's blood.

"_Thranduilion! Hir nin, lasto beth nin! Kwivra!" – _Son of Thranduil! My Lord, hear my voice. Awake!

"_Sedho". – _Be still

_N.B I chose to translate the conversation as it happened, just to save you all the inconvenience of flicking to the bottom of the page for every line. Hope this was okay. _

_Sorry - no Glorfindel or Twins this chapter, but they will be back shortly, never fear!_

_namárië ar sérë, híninya_

_nienna xx_


End file.
